


Already Over

by paperstorm



Series: Deleted Scenes [60]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 03:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tag for <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1222594/">'No Rest For The Wicked', 3x16</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Already Over

**Author's Note:**

> Contains dialogue from the episode No Rest For The Wicked, it belongs to Eric Kripke.
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/825/dsb3.jpg/)  
> 

“This is gonna hurt a little,” Ashley says, flicking a switch that makes the electric needle in her hand start buzzing.  
  
Sam looks at her from where he’s reclined in the padded chair. “I think I can handle it.”  
  
Ashley smiles, unashamedly predatory, and practically purrs as she says, “Mm, I’m sure you can, Cowboy.”  
  
Dean rolls his eyes. “Are you sure this is necessary?” he asks Sam.  
  
Sam smirks at him. “You scared?”  
  
“ _No_. I just …” But he doesn’t finish the sentence, because he can’t exactly go into the pros and cons of getting matching demon-repelling tattoos above their hearts with a civilian sitting right there. It’s not lost on Dean that she probably thinks they’re a couple and that they’re getting _matching tattoos_ , which, okay, they _are_ , but Dean doesn’t like when people know it. Even strangers.  
  
Ashley lowers the needle down and starts trailing it over Sam’s alcohol-swabbed skin, and Sam flinches a little and then clenches his jaw like he’s trying not to.  
  
“How bad is it?” Dean asks warily.  
  
Sam shakes his head. “Not that bad. We’ve had worse.”  
  
Dean huffs and rubs his hands over his face. “Well that’s comforting.”  
  
“Dean, we …” Sam lowers his voice to a whisper – not that it matters, the top of the girl’s head is literally two inches away from his mouth. “We can’t keep carrying those little trinkets around forever. They could break, or we could lose them, and then we’d be screwed. This is a more permanent solution.”  
  
“I get it, Sam. Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”  
  
Ashley makes a funny noise in her throat and she’s smiling a little when Dean looks over at her. He wonders what she thinks they’re talking about. Some freaky gay sex thing, would be his best guess, and that’s just perfect.  
  
The needle hums and Dean watches her [work](http://paperstorm-fics.livejournal.com/25238.html), watches as she glides the tip of it rhythmically over Sam’s skin, pausing every now and then to wipe the excess away. As the tattoo starts to take shape, Dean has to admit it maybe isn’t the _worst_ idea Sam’s ever had. The black ink does look all kinds of awesome against Sam’s tanned skin. Dean sort of wants to lick it, and then he has to press his lips together to fight back a smile when he remembers that later he _can_. He’s too caught up in wondering if it’ll taste different than Sam usually does, that he doesn’t notice Sam is starting to fidget. Ashley does, though, and tells Sam to keep still.  
  
“Sorry,” Sam mutters, something odd in his voice and Dean frowns at him.  
  
Ashley smiles again. “It’s always the ones that look the least kinky.”  
  
Dean turns his frown to her. “What?”  
  
“Your boyfriend likes a little pain,” she says with a wink and a nod down toward Sam’s lower half, and Dean follows her gaze and notices way too late that Sam isn’t quite soft in his jeans anymore. “But I bet you knew that.”  
  
Sam groans but it’s not a happy one, and when Dean’s head snaps back to look at his brother, he looks absolutely mortified. Which Dean would find funny if it wasn’t so hot that Sam’s actually getting turned on by this.  
  
“Shit. M’sorry,” Sam mutters, covering his eyes with his [free](http://paperstorm-fics.livejournal.com/25238.html) hand.  
  
“It happens,” Ashley says with a shrug. “You can kiss him if you want,” she adds to Dean. “Long as he doesn’t move.”  
  
Dean didn’t correct her the first time, but this time he splutters, “No, we – we’re not …”  
  
“He’s my brother,” Sam grits out, and Ashley snorts.  
  
“Sure he is. And that tasty piece of ass I’m groping in that picture over there is my cousin.” She briefly nods her head in the direction of the wall, and Dean looks over at the framed picture of Ashley locked in a passionate kiss with a gorgeous and heavily tattooed red-head.  
  
“Hot,” Dean says out loud, without meaning to.  
  
“I’m aware,” Ashley deadpans, concentrating on the tattoo again.  
  
Dean turns back to Sam, and he’s never seen Sam look so embarrassed in his entire life. Not even the time Dad found the dirty magazine a fourteen-year-old Sam had been hiding under the back seat of the Impala. Sam goes back and forth between avoiding Dean’s gaze and blushing furiously, and staring at Dean with a pleading look in his eyes like he’s silently begging Dean to somehow get him out of the situation. And since Dean’s big-brother superpowers don’t include the ability to teleport, he can’t really do anything to help Sam there so instead he decides he doesn’t care what this girl he’ll never see again thinks of him. He goes over to the chair, braces his hand on the headrest next to Sam’s ear, and leans down and kisses him. Sam’s frozen at first and Dean thinks he’s about to get shoved away, but then Sam hums, slides his hand over Dean’s hair, and kisses him back. Dean grins to himself and shoves his tongue into Sam’s mouth, finding it a lot more exciting to do this a foot away from a complete stranger than he would’ve thought.  
  
From somewhere off to his right, Dean hears Ashley blow out a breath and say, “I don’t think I’ve ever wished I wasn’t a lesbian before,” and he laughs a little to himself but just keeps on pressing kisses into Sam’s lips. He wonders briefly how much she’d freak out if she knew they actually _are_ brothers, but then he kinda thinks she’d think that was hot too, in a depraved sort of way, and that spurs him on.  
  
“Dean,” Sam says softly, but Dean doesn’t answer him. “Dean!” he says louder, and Dean opens his eyes and Sam’s gone.  
  
He blinks, completely confused for a moment before his eyes take in the water-stained ceiling above him and he realizes he was dreaming. It’s another minute before the fuzz in his head clears enough for him to notice Sam’s next to him in the bed, propped up on one elbow and looking down at him in concern.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
Dean frowns and licks his lips, but then he nods. “Yeah.”  
  
“Bad dream?” Sam asks, all sweetly worried, and usually that would irritate Dean but right now it doesn’t.  
  
“No, it … good one.”  
  
“Oh. Sorry, guess I should’ve just let you sleep.”  
  
Dean shakes his head. He reaches out and pulls Sam down to a kiss that tastes like morning-breath, and he couldn’t care less even though he’s aware of just how much of a sap that makes him. He’s become a walking Nicholas Sparks novel the last couple of weeks and he _should_ be embarrassed about that but he isn’t. There are too many other things on his mind. “Doesn’t matter. Was dreamin’ about you anyway. Real thing’s better.”  
  
Sam grins into his lips and rolls on top of him, pushing his hips down so his half-hard cock rubs against Dean’s. “Yeah? What about me?”  
  
“The day we got these.” Dean trails his fingertips over Sam’s tattoo.  
  
Sam laughs a little. “Oh. God, that was …”  
  
“Awesome?” Dean suggests.  
  
“I was gonna say humiliating. But I guess yours is better.”  
  
“We had some damn good sex that night.” Dean smiles up at him. “Turns out you’re kinkier than I thought.”  
  
Sam manages to smile and huff in irritation at the same time, but he says, “Yeah. We did.”  
  
Dean nudges him back so he can turn over onto his side, kissing Sam as he goes and running his fingers down Sam’s back. Sam’s different suddenly, though; less relaxed, and Dean clenches his jaw and braces himself for the breakdown. It’s so god-damn stupid and Dean hates it, but they haven’t been able to make it through sex _once_ this week without one of them losing it. Dean’s miles past ashamed over how many times it’s been him, but it was his last week on earth and he didn’t realize it would be so hard to say goodbye to Sam. Especially since Sam won’t let him.  
  
“Sammy,” Dean says softly, trying to quell the storm before it starts.  
  
“They didn’t work,” Sam whispers.  
  
“What didn’t?”  
  
Sam brushes his thumb over the tattoo on Dean’s chest. “They were supposed to keep us safe.”  
  
“They’re to keep us from getting possessed, kiddo. Not …”  
  
“I know. I know that, I just … when I came up with the symbol I was so excited. Felt like … like we were protected. Like nothing could hurt us.”  
  
“There’s still time,” Dean reminds him, sliding his palm over Sam’s cheek. “You promised, remember? Don’t crap out on me now.”  
  
It’s a joke, he meant it to lighten the mood, but the look on Sam’s face makes Dean instantly regret it.  
  
“I _will_ ,” Sam says firmly, like nothing has ever meant more to him than Dean believing those words. “You are not going to Hell, Dean. I’m not letting you.”  
  
“I know. Hey, I know,” Dean says, pressing what he hopes is a soothing kiss to Sam’s lips. “I was kidding, okay?”  
  
“Well I’m not.” Sam pulls away from him and rolls to the edge of the bed, reaching down to the floor and picking up his jeans from last night. “C’mon, we got work to do.”  
  
“Sam,” Dean says softly, and then repeats it louder when Sam doesn’t answer. Sam looks back at him, and Dean reaches one hand out. “Can we just … I mean, c’mon, we’re almost at the finish line, here. This could be the last …”  
  
Sam glares at him and gets out of the bed and starts pulling his clothes on. “No. No! I’m not having _one last time_ with you, man. That’d be like admitting I think we’re not gonna pull this off.”  
  
“I’m being realistic,” Dean points out reluctantly, sitting up and watching as Sam wrenches a wrinkled t-shirt over his head. “We might not.”  
  
“Ten seconds ago you were reminding me that we still have time!” Sam cries, his eyes widening. “Now, what, you’ve decided we should give up? Just stay in bed for the next day and a half instead of trying to stop this?”  
  
“So I bounce back and forth!” Dean replies defensively. “This isn’t exactly easy on me, you know!”  
  
Sam stares at him for a moment, and then his expression softens. He walks over to Dean’s side of the bed and sits, taking Dean’s face in his hands and pulling him in for a kiss.  
  
“I love you,” he whispers.  
  
“I know you do,” Dean answers, smoothing a hand over Sam’s bed-messy hair.  
  
“Our last time? Is gonna be when we’re like eighty, and all gross and wrinkly and hopped up on Viagra,” Sam says into Dean’s lips. “Okay? We are getting you out of this.”  
  
Dean nods. He wants more than anything to believe it. He’s paralyzed in fear at the thought of them failing. But the minutes are ticking away and Dean’s been dreaming about all his favorite moments in their life all week long, like his brain knows his time is almost up. His life is flashing before his eyes in slow-motion and the thirty-five hours they have left might as well be thirty-five seconds. Dean doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to go to Hell. And mostly, he doesn’t want to leave Sam. It makes him ache inside to think about his Sammy left up here all alone. But he’s not sure he’ll have any choice.  
  
“You start goin’ through the books on the table, okay?” Sam says, kissing him one more time and then standing up. “I got a couple things to track down, I’ll be back soon.”  
  
He smiles at Dean over his shoulder and then he’s gone, and Dean collapses back down in the bed and squeezes his eyes shut tight to keep the tears back. Dean really thought he could handle this. But, as much as he’d love to believe otherwise, he’s mostly given up hope that they’ll be able to break the deal, and he’s doing his best to put on a brave face but inside he’s just … defeated.  
  
He gets up and gets dressed, forcing himself to keep moving even though it won’t help. He spends hours pouring over the pages and doesn’t find a damn thing. He falls asleep with his head resting on an open book and has nightmares of hellhounds chasing him through the woods. When Dean was little, Dad promised him nightmares weren’t real, but he was wrong. When Sam gets back, he says Bobby’s found something, and he promises Dean for the millionth time that everything is going to be okay – and that’s supposed to be Dean’s line – and his face contorts as he says it like the trailer for a horror movie and Dean knows it isn’t real but it scares him down to his bones anyway.  
  
Dean whispers his brother’s name as Sam’s walking out the door, and when Sam turns back to him, Dean pulls him into a hug. He doesn’t say anything about it, he just pets through Sam’s hair and holds him tight, closing his eyes and burying his face against Sam’s shoulder, and wishing with every cell in his body that he didn’t feel almost certain it’s the last time.  
  
____  
  
They’d walked into this house so hopeful. They found her. They tracked Lilith down and they were going to convince her to let Dean go or kill her, and it was going to work and Dean was going to live and spend every day for the rest of his life making it up to Sam for putting him through this. And then everything went wrong. Lilith jumped out of the little girl at the last second and she might still be in the house somewhere but she probably isn’t and there’s only minutes left before the world ends. Dean’s world, anyway. And probably Sam’s too. Dean has so many regrets. The thought of leaving Sammy alone in this shitty world is tearing Dean up inside just like a hellhound is going to do for real in a couple of minutes. Dean’s terrified. And broken-down, and sorry, and heartbroken, and scared out of his god-damn mind.  
  
“Okay, you win. What do I have to do?” Sam’s frantically asking Ruby.  
  
“What do you mean?” she answers with a twisted frown.  
  
“To save Dean! What do you need me to do?”  
  
And Dean can’t let him do that. His life isn’t worth Sam doing whatever horrible thing Ruby has in mind. He grabs his brother, trying to turn him around. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  
  
“Just shut up for a second.” Sam pulls out of his grasp and focuses back on her. “Ruby!”  
  
“You had your chance!” Ruby says unkindly. “You can’t just flip a switch. We needed time.”  
  
“Well there’s gotta be something!” Sam insists. “There’s gotta be some way! Whatever it is, I’ll do it!”  
  
Dean can’t let this happen. He grabs Sam again, and Sam shoves him away.  
  
“Don’t, Dean! I’m not gonna let you go to Hell!” he cries.  
  
“Yes you are!” Dean shouts. Sam stares at him, tears gathering in his eyes, and Dean’s pretty sure he can actually see the moment when Sam’s heart shatters. “Yes you are. I’m sorry. I mean, this is all my fault, I know that. But what you’re doing, it’s not gonna save me. It’s only gonna kill you.”  
  
Sam looks away, not bothering to blink back the tears or hide the devastated expression on his face, and Dean thinks that whatever’s in store for him in Hell, it’s nothing compared to having to spend the rest of eternity with the memory of Sam’s face looking like that.  
  
“What am I supposed to do?” Sam whispers brokenly.  
  
“Keep fighting,” Dean tells him. “Take care of my wheels. Sammy, remember what Dad taught you, okay?”  
  
Sam nods, his lower lip quivering, and Dean wants to tell Sam he loves him but he can’t get the words out.  
  
“And remember what I taught you.”  
  
The grandfather clock ticks and then chimes out that it’s midnight, and Dean’s heart stops. Tears spill down Sam’s cheeks and Dean tries to smile at him, tries to be the big brother just one more time.  
  
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Ruby says quietly, and Dean thinks she might actually mean it. “I wouldn’t wish this upon my worst enemy.”  
  
A chilling howl sends a tremor through Dean’s whole body, and he looks around with his heart beating faster than it ever has before. “Hellhound.”  
  
“Where?” Sam asks quickly.  
  
“There.”  
  
There’s nothing left to do, and Dean should just stand here and face this like a man but his legs start running. Sam and Ruby tear after him. He sprints into the office, and they hold the door closed against the pounding behind it while Dean frantically pours a line of goofer dust. The pounding stops when he’s done, and Dean bolts for the window to seal that entrance as well.  
  
“Give me the knife, maybe I can fight it off,” Ruby says to Sam.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Come on! That dust won’t last forever!”  
  
Sam takes the knife out of his pocket and hands it to her, but then Dean notices something he didn’t before.  
  
“Wait!”  
  
“You wanna die?” Ruby asks.  
  
“Sam, that’s not Ruby. It’s not Ruby!”  
  
Sam looks back at her, and with one flip of her hand she flings him against the wall and pins him there. Then she does the same to Dean, tossing him like a rag doll onto the table.  
  
“How long you been in her?” Dean grunts, struggling against the invisible binds.  
  
“Not long,” Lilith intones, childlike and in Ruby’s voice. “But I like it. It’s all grown up and pretty.”  
  
“And where’s Ruby?” Sam asks.  
  
“She was a very bad girl, so I sent her far, far away.” She tilts her head side to side, cracking the bones in her neck.  
  
“You know, I should have seen it before. But you all look alike to me,” Dean growls.  
  
She ignores him and walks over to Sam. “Hello, Sam. I’ve wanted to meet you for a very long time.” She leans in and kisses him, and Sam struggles against her but he can’t get away. Anger flares in Dean's chest. No one should touch Sam like that but him. “Your lips are soft.”  
  
Sam snarls and turns his face away from her touch. “Right, so you have me. Let my brother go.”  
  
“Silly goose,” Lilith says. “You wanna bargain, you have to have something that I want. You don’t.”  
  
“So this is your big plan, huh?” Dean keeps struggling but he can’t move more than his head. “Drag me to Hell. Kill Sam. And then what? Become queen bitch?”  
  
“I don’t have to answer to puppy chow.” She walks slowly over to the door and opens it, staring at Dean while she does. “Sic ‘em, boy.”  
  
Dean’s blood runs cold in his veins, icy dread washing over his whole body as the goofer dust blows away.  
  
Everything slows down. Claws tear into his legs and pain explodes over his skin and Dean hears himself cry out in agony. Sam’s screaming. Begging for it to stop, but it doesn’t. It’s the most inhuman sound Dean’s ever heard, and through the mind-numbing, searing pain, Sam’s anguish is the worst part. He gets dragged onto the floor, hits the ground hard but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of claws ripping his insides to shreds. He tries to get away from it but he can’t. Bones break, and muscle fibers tear. This is it. He’s going to die, he’s going to wake up in Hell and then he’s going to stay there forever spending every day in as much pain as he’s in right now. Everything in front of Dean’s eyes is going blurry, slipping in and out of focus. The lights dim as Dean chokes on his own blood, and Sam’s still screaming. Suddenly his shredded body doesn’t hurt so much anymore. They should’ve had one last time, one last moment together, wrapped up in each other so Dean could tell Sammy how much he’ll always loved him, no matter what. Dean should’ve insisted. He should’ve said goodbye. He should’ve let _Sam_ say goodbye when they were in the car. He should’ve


End file.
